


Mask

by RudeZebrra



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Gen, Mild Language, Tags Are Hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 21:41:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19071211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RudeZebrra/pseuds/RudeZebrra
Summary: Goro Akechi and Akira Kurusu are assholes to each other, yet Akechi still has the audacity to visit Leblanc.





	Mask

**Author's Note:**

> This just a drabble so it's kinda all over the place and is mostly up to your interpretation I guess, considering I wrote this at 3 AM lol
> 
> This is my first work in the P5 fandom too, so I hope it's something.

"You really are a freak you know?" Those words came out of a sickly sweet smile, framed by soft chestnut hair, "That's what everyone says, right? Are they right?"

Akira couldn't bring himself to answer. He didn't really have an opinion on it. He could be a sick piece of shit or an honour student, it didn't matter to him.

"Sure."

"Sure? That's all you have to say for yourself?" Akechi's head cocked to the right, so synthetic, like a practiced act.

"Why does it matter to you? You called me a freak, and they do, too. So what? They don't know me." Akira held his stare at the other's false bravado.

"That doesn't hurt you? Has your dignity really been taken, your ego so crushed, that they can't faze you? I find it all hard to believe." Akechi fiddled with his fingers,  turning from the raven's eyes.

"Has your's?" The question so easily slipped off Akira's tongue, like vomit in an unexpected spell of nasuea. Maybe he wanted to see Akechi's carefully meticulated, gently crafted mask crack and crumble.

It didn't waver.

A quick, almost silent, 'no' fell from the brunet's lips.

"You're lying." Akira couldn't hold it back anymore. The accusations were going to hold their place. He wasn't going to let Akechi keep lying to his face, thinking he's dense enough to fall into a trap of honey fake kindness, fake smiles, and fake laughs.

He couldn't stand fake.

And then he could see a small light of honesty shine through that ugly, sweet mask. A twitch of Akechi's cheek, that smile itching to become something else, and Akira wanted to know what it was.

"How would you know that? You're just a delinquent. Some idiot here on prohibition. It's funny that so many adults can live without getting that charge yet here you are." Akechi's tone was sugary, but it wasn't easy to miss the venom, souring his dirty words.

"Or do you want me to keep accusing you, keep talking to such a inhumanity like you because you think you can have my full attention? You probably get off on humiliation." The soft smile on the detective's face wasn't just a pleasantry anymore, it was a threat.

Akira was willing to take that risk, willing to try and rip that feeling of control from Akechi, prying away those gloved fingers gripped - so tight - on any sliver of power.

"So what if I do? Humiliating me won't help you then. Or is that what you want? Do you want me begging and grovelling at your feet Akechi-kun?" Akira leaned closer, his chin resting in the palm of hand.

Akechi scoffed, "You're disgusting."

A smirk began crawling on Akira's face. He wasn't going to let a good opportunity to fuck with the detective go to waste.

"You're doing it again, Akechi-kun. Might want to watch what you say," Akira parroted back in that sweet voice that Akechi had been using on him all evening. Akira's fingers were now drumming against his own cheek in impatience.

"Fuck you," Akechi snarled, his voice losing the saccharine.

"There's my favourite Akechi Goro," Akira drawled, feeling accomplished in stealing away the detective prince façade. The phantom thief wouldn't admit that he liked hearing snide remarks, curses, and extremely brutal honesty befall Akechi. He felt some kind of pride in being the only one to see all the pent of frustration and anger that boiled under the surface of the detective's pretty face.

"Shut the fuck up with that, Kurusu. What is with you?" Akechi had a tense grip on his own crossed arms, refusing to be look at the other's visage.

"You came in here with a pissy attitude, Akechi. I'm just helping you vent it." Akira turned away to busy himself with the clutter on the counter.

"Help me?" Akechi let out a laugh, one that would sound close to psychotic to anyone else, "You think you are helping me? You are a damn fool, Kurusu."

Akira peeked at the other boy, a gloved hand covering his mouth, covering a disfiguring smile. Akira only huffed out an attempt of a laugh at it.

"Is it working?" Akira deadpanned.

Akechi made a noise something along the lines of snort and a cough, "Of course not."

"Sounds like it is. Or are you just afraid to admit I make you happy?" Akira droned, back facing the decomposing detective.

He didn't get an answer to that question, but he wasn't exactly expecting one. He already knew his answer was bound to be negative - in some masochistic recesses of his mind he wanted that question to make Akechi angry - but he was met with complete silence.

Startlingly still silence, that was so loud that he felt like he was dying. His insides crawled and squirmed like boiled crawfish as he turned to the detective.

Tonight surely was full of surprises.

Akechi sat there, a blank look on his face as if he was a system set on reboot. Akira could see him swallow a lump in his throat, probably looking for a way to respond - retort - and Akira ever so desperately wanted the other to say something.

Akechi's words were surprisingly gentle, something soft, a contrast to the way he had spoke to him early in the evening. The words were so quiet that Akira barely heard him, even over the silence. It almost made him wonder if he was supposed to hear the words Akechi Goro had to say.

_"Why couldn't I just shoot you right now?"_

Akira could help the smile that forced its way across his face.


End file.
